Curse of the Fae King (13 page)

His lip curled into a sneer. “Apparently they’ve appointed themselves the magic police. They’re blackhearted and evil. According to my father, they hide beneath beautiful glamours, but underneath they’re hideous creatures covered in pockmarks and warts.”

She thought about
Hansel and Gretel
or
Snow White
’s wicked queen. They were stories to terrify children, but he spoke as though their every word was true. The truth crushed her, but she still held her head high, ready to take on the world—Witches and all—to save her mother.

With a full-on, dimpled grin, he turner her to face him and as he held her, he stroked a gentle rhythm on the small of her back. “I love your sharp tongue and sparky ways. You know that, don’t you? However, the Elves will have a different opinion.”

Meena leaned into Leonidas’s hand as he massaged her spine, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t, not when he told her the Elves would reject her—even though her magic could help solve their hunger crisis. Add in that he loathed the entire Witch nation—her included—and she felt sick. She longed to tell him everything, but how could she when he’d hate her for it?

He ruffled her curls with one hand and maintained his comforting massage with the other. She wanted him to steal a kiss, but he turned her toward him and rested his forehead against hers. “The thing is, the Elves won’t react well if you stand up for yours. I told you they treated women badly; I just didn’t say how badly. If we encounter any of Mordred’s warriors, you should act as though you’re my well-trained pet. You must appear submissive and servile, or they will punish you. I will fight anything and everyone to protect you, but without my powers, even I cannot take on an Elf legion alone.”

“Your pet,” she repeated. “Submissive and servile? Damn it, Leo, I’m a twenty-first-century woman, not some macho idiot’s sex slave.”

He grinned again, laugh lines crinkling around his emerald eyes. “However, since our lives might depend on it, could you pretend? For my sake? Please. If it helps, I’d only ever want a sex slave as beautiful as you.”

A beautiful sex slave? Her? To hell with that. Much as she loved the way compliments dripped from his tongue, she was the equal of any man, Elf, or whatever. Leonidas not only expected her to act like his obedient little doggie, but he condemned her entire race, her sex, and her intelligence all in one breath.

She never doubted he’d fight to protect her, especially now that she could kill his rampant man-eating weeds, but he wanted a 1950s Stepford wife to hang on his every word. No wonder he was always pushing her behind him when she wanted to stand at his side. She’d bite her tongue until they rescued her mother, but if he wanted her to clear his country of carnivorous plants, then she’d be making some changes in his time-warped Fae world.

She wanted to grab his shoulders, stare into his eyes, and shout,
“Hello, Witch here! No glamour, no warts, and damn it, no magic. Except, apparently, the highly desirable ability to kill plants.”

Who’d have thought her reverse green fingers would ever count for anything? But it didn’t change the facts. She was born a Witch—one who’d longed to come into her powers—but if he discovered her origins, he’d despise her too. The truth stretched between them like a chasm she was too scared to cross, but she hated misleading—lying to—her prejudiced Fae warrior.

Even though they’d turned against her, the way he condemned Witches killed something inside her. Hekate and her hounds, he hated everything she was meant to be. If she hadn’t been such a monumental failure, she’d have already taken her seat on the Witch Council. The purple streaks in her hair would have ensured it.

Yet the things he said about the Witch Council made a sick sort of sense. Maybe the Witches really did want to rid the otherworld of creatures without magic. They’d certainly wanted rid of her. Everything seemed topsy-turvy, but this was a mess of her own making. She should have been honest with him from the start. Okay, that wouldn’t have helped rescue her mother, but it would be one less problem to deal with.

She’d grown up around Witches, played hide-and-seek with them, even sneaked off to an illicit moonlit party and gotten drunk with some of them. They couldn’t all be evil, could they? Almost, almost, she could feel sorry for this Mordred Arthington and the Elf nation—then he went and kidnapped her mother. They could starve for all she cared. At least Lipstick would keep them away from all that food their human stodges had collected. Give him half a chance, and their dragon would eat it. Then it hit her. Maybe the Elves were trying to supply their army and take over the mundane world. Starting with Whitby—her adopted home. No way. Too many people, even that empty-headed teenager who cost her the job in the Goth store, would get hurt. For the first time, Meena realized the mundane world mattered as much to her as the otherworld.

She took the coward’s option and stayed silent, but deceiving Leonidas sat like a lead weight on her shoulders. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, his chocolate-and-chili essence was intoxicating. “I don’t understand. Even if the plants die when they touch me, how can I stop a famine? Don’t you need green-fingered farmers to do that?”

“Because, querida”—his aloof persona evaporated as he swung her around—“you can push back the plants. Our dragons will scorch them, but you can hold them back long enough that we can reclaim the land.”

See? Now that he knows I’m Agent Orange personified, he’s willing to keep me a while.

He pointed at the damp ground. “Look at the tracks. I’d guess about twenty men waited here to escort your mother, but they only have one single ox cart to transport her. The foot soldiers will make slow progress, and with any luck we’ll catch them before they reach Mordred’s stronghold.”

Still shocked that she possessed any magic—even the plant-killing sort—Meena took his hand and took a tentative step down the road. On either side of her, mandrake plants toppled, and vines withered. She’d wanted to move mountains or have the power to cure sickness, but draining the life out of the touchy-feely greenery didn’t impress her much, whatever Leonidas thought.

She loved how he stayed close by her, sword in hand. Then she realized he must be worried in case her newly discovered magic failed. She’d wanted to do something witchy and wonderful with her life. Instead, wow, she’d become Meena the jungle killer.

The past half hour had been…anticlimactic. Not the big revelation she’d dreamed of. What if Leonidas liked her plant-killing abilities more than he liked her? Now that she was a weed deterrent par excellence, he called her a prize. At least he hadn’t rejected for it, but she wished he’d valued her for herself, not for the way she desiccated a few overambitious weeds.

Deep down, nothing had changed. He was still the oversexed Fae who’d promised to give her more pleasure than chocolate ice cream. And he had—but that didn’t mean she could keep him. He’d already told her she was too different to share his life.
No promises, remember?
She’d known that from the start, even accepted his definition of their future, but she’d wanted to be more than a transient lover who’d popped in and out of his life.

Meena had no idea how long they trekked after the Elves, but her face felt taut and sunburned. Her arms matched the red of her short-sleeved corset top. And still she kept walking.

Because they’d hastened through the portal, they hadn’t had a chance to collect supplies. Right now she’d give her right arm for some bottled water and a plaster to cover the blister her pump had rubbed on her heel. More to distract herself than because she craved conversation, she asked, “Why can I do magic? That pair back in Whitby, the eyes-and-ears guys, covered our farm in Fairy dust. I get that it blocked your powers, but why didn’t it affect me?”

Leonidas never broke stride, just continued steadily on after the soldiers. “Your cloak and gloves covered every inch of your flesh, even your hair and hands. The dust couldn’t settle on you to nullify the power you hold inside.”

“See?” She gloated. “Being a Vampire wannabe was a good thing.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to a standstill—not that she was complaining about a moment’s rest, but his next words made her wince.

“The only thing worse than a Vampire is a Witch. Both would kill you as soon as look as you. Never forget that they are both the scum of the earth.”

That’s it, Leo. Rub salt into my wounds.

Chapter Fourteen

Meena wanted to tell him there were good Witches as well as bad—her mother, for example—but silence seemed the best option. Then Leonidas was off again, walking with a metronome rhythm she found hard to match.

Her body protested his pace, the sun blistered her arms, and her heel bled. Her mouth felt like a desert after a sandstorm. She tried not to think of cold, clear water dampening her dry lips and trickling down her throat. Sparkling or still? Iced or aired? Any way would be good. She pictured herself opening the cap and taking a tiny sip…savoring. Maybe she’d pour it over her sunburn and let it cool her skin, or maybe she’d tip it down like a waterfall. Best of all, she could pour it on Leo’s broad chest and lap it up like a cat. Who’d have thought a simple bottle of water had such possibilities?

She needed to toughen up and keep moving, but she’d give anything to sit down for a couple of minutes and enjoy some shade. Leonidas alternately cajoled and encouraged. She dropped her head, stared at her feet, and kept walking despite the pain in her heel. Life became one agonizing step after another, but she’d keep going. She had to.

Finally he gathered her in his arms and held her against his chest. He carried her as though she weighed less than nothing, and she silently thanked this month’s issue of her favorite magazine for her latest short-lived diet.

She closed her eyes and rested a moment, but she refused to be a millstone around her warrior’s neck. So much for independent and freethinking. She crumbled at the first obstacle. “Put me down. I can manage.”

“I know you can,” he encouraged. “Relax, querida, it’s no effort for me to help. Your foot is bleeding, and darkness will fall soon. There’s a wayfarer’s hut about a mile ahead where we can snatch a few hours’ sleep. Of course, my woman might have to clear it of invading flora first. I will deal with any fauna that ventures too close.”

Rats as big as cars? Tree snakes? Too weary to think about them right now, she replayed the way he’d called her his woman. Yeah, she really liked that. As she nestled against Leonidas’s chest, she ran a gentle finger over the ridges of his ears. He inhaled sharply and upped the pace.

Meena must have dozed as she curled into his chest, and then she jerked awake. When Leonidas stood her on her feet, she staggered slightly and kept a tight grip around his neck. Part of her wondered who’d sandpapered her throat.

He chuckled as she leaned against him. “Time to wake up, sleepyhead. Once you’ve worked your magic, I’ll let you stroke my ears.”

“Why would I do that?” she croaked. Then she remembered his pleasured moan when she’d brushed her fingers over their tips before she’d closed her eyes for an instant. “Hekate, I fell asleep. I’m so sorry. How far did you carry me? And have we much farther to go?”

He was strong and powerful, a warrior who’d face anything to keep his world safe. Apart from her plant-killing mojo, she was…a liability. No wonder he’d wanted to leave her behind.

Leonidas was her safe harbor in a carnivorous world, but he looked worried. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he told her, “Even the track’s inherent magic is fading. However, if you use your anti-green fingers to clear that bank of vines and scarlet flowers, we can soon rest and eat.”

Eat what exactly? Her tummy rumbled as she passed too close to a tiny red orchid. The damn thing sent a flurry of barbs in her direction, but they wilted before they made skin contact. Killing them didn’t feel too bad after all. And if that was a hut beneath those vines? If it was, it had better come with plumbing. The flesh-eating blooms swayed with hypnotic beauty, but what the hell was that dissolving in a giant pitcher plant? It might have been a rat once, maybe—but even its stinking remains were huge. She screamed when a nearby mandrake shot out a red root and looped around a red-patterned tree snake that had ventured too close. As it pulled it in, a maw opened in its stem.

Leonidas grinned and tossed his dagger into the snake’s eye. “Go do our thing with the plants now I’ve skewered our supper.”

Supper? A snake? Not for a vegetarian like her, thank you very much. A drink of water, now that she’d kill for. Slowly, pausing after each step to let the surrounding jungle wither and die, Meena approached the flower-festooned hut. Leonidas followed in her footsteps, but he snatched up the dead snake from the dead mandrake’s tendrils as he passed.

More vines overflowed from the hut’s interior, but they couldn’t stand against Meena’s inbuilt weed-killing voodoo. She stumbled through the door, exhausted, drained, and so thirsty she could weep. Her heart somersaulted when he rubbed the back of his hand down her cheek.

“You did well today,” he told her.

His approval mattered, and when he spoke in that slow, rumbly voice, she melted inside. Then she looked past him at a small brick-lined hollow set in the floor. A spring bubbled up inside it, then ran away down a long open-topped pipe. Too thirsty to salivate, she croaked, “Is that drinking water?”

He searched the cupboards for a goblet or mug. “These huts have magical protection as well as spring water piped inside. The clay ground around here acts like a filter and supplies us with pure drinking water.”

She dropped to her knees, cupped her hands in the hollowed-out stone that made a natural basin in the floor. When she raised them to her lips, the water trickled down her throat, refreshing every part of her. Then she realized she knelt at his feet, and her hazel eyes fixed on his cock.

Moments earlier she’d dozed in his arms. Now she wanted to thank him for carrying her down that endless road. And she knew exactly how to do it. Only…

He stood back and skinned the snake. Its blood dripped on the ground, and this time Meena salivated. The slight coppery tang radiated the most delicate fragrance she’d ever smelled—ambrosia she needed to take into her mouth and savor. She craved it, thirsted for it, but she wasn’t a real vampire, just a dress-up-for-work fake.